I feel like writing but I don't know what about.
Boredom isn't necessarily painful. It is just a state of agitation to substitute for the possibility of a state of nothingness in the hope of eventual action. I guess I can see the evolutionary advocation for constant action.
Damn this language failure. I've been forgetting things again. It comes in cycles. And I look at a structure of some idiomatic sentence and start to wonder: how the hell does this even work? I guess that's not the point of an idiomatic statement. It is idiomatic because that collection of words adhered under a common acceptance of meaning, whether it works or not. But it doesn't do me much good trying to think about it, and then I lose the ability to produce anything for a moment. And then I forget what the sentence is. And it would have been useful to say something else. Damnation.
It is raining again. It rains for a while and you get to thinking, "well this is how it is". And then it clears up and the blue sky looks a little strange and even invasive. But then you realize that yes, the sky is good, and the sun will feel good today, and the air and the streets are clean from just being washed, and it looks very nice out: clean and shiny and the colors are vibrant. And then the clouds gather yet again and you wake up to the pattering, thinking, "again"?
Nothing cohesive for now. Lots of phone calls to make. Meaningless anxiety. Doesn't make any sense.
